


The Wedding Script

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Challenge: The Swoon in June Challenge, Drama, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 05:20:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair wants to take their relationship in new directions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wedding Script

 Warnings:  None.  Well,  
a bit of angst.

 This is an answer to the "swoon in June" challenge.  Feedback   
 appreciated.  BTW, this is my first fanfic--will you still respect me in   
 the morning?   
  

 The Wedding Script  


by

Gina Collum

 

 

 Naomi:  Good afternoon, everyone, and thank you for coming.  I'm Naomi,   
 speaking for the Sandburgs. 

 Steven:  And I'm Steven, speaking for the Ellisons. 

 Naomi:  We two are here today to attest to the joining of our families   
 that has already taken place, and to represent to you the fondest desire   
 of Blair Sandburg and James Ellison: to be joined in matrimony for the   
 rest of their lives. 

 Steven:  Why bother?  You must already know they're loopy about each   
 other--if you don't, you're probably looking for the philately   
 convention, it's down the hall to the left--[pause for laughter]--so why   
 a ceremony at all? 

 Naomi:  Because it's love. 

 Steven:  Because it's contrary to their roles as adults. 

 Naomi:  Because love is always a transgression.  Here we have two   
 perfectly responsible people, productive members of society, suddenly   
 making cow eyes and using sappy pet names like "cupcake"--[pause for   
 laughter] 

 Steven:  It's only natural for the rest of us to be worried. 

 Naomi:  Love is, or can be, one of the most disrupting forces we know.   
 Through the tradition of marriage, we recognize that, for all its   
 danger, it is still a positive force. 

 Steven:  Through the tradition of marriage, we make love work for   
 society rather than against it. 

 Naomi:  The nature of the marriage vow is not a promise between two that   
 they will love each other forever, but a promise between two people and   
 a community. 

 Steven:  James and Blair stand before you today, prepared to swear that   
 they will go on as the friends and coworkers that they are to us   
 already, that they can be relied on to keep up their part in making life   
 work, no matter how silly they are with each other. 

 Naomi:  They are prepared to make a covenant with us, their community.   
 Our part of the bargain is to stand with them, to support their   
 relationship, to offer our friendship, and, if necessary, our advice.   
 Our part is to promise to remain their community.  If there is anyone   
 here who is not prepared to make this covenant with Blair and Jim,   
 there's still time for you to join the philatelists down the hall.   
 [Pause for laughter.] 

 Steven:  But before we start the vows, let's allow the principals to lay   
 their case before you.  Blair? 

 Blair:  I want to do this because I think we can make this work.  We've   
 been partners for years--you know how well. Over the years our lives   
 have gradually become more entwined.  I love his humor and his   
 intelligence.  I love his athleticism and his pleasure in the outdoors.   
 We've saved each other's lives, and Jim is my best friend.  He's stood   
 by me when I was ill, when I was afraid, when danger threatened because   
 of stupid situations I got myself into.  He's protected me as much as he   
 can, and he's accepted from me another kind of protection.  He accepts   
 me completely; I don't think there's anything I could tell him that   
 could damage our closeness.  All those words in the traditional marriage   
 vows--in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer--he's already   
 done all that for me.  In short, I love him.  I love you, Jim.  I want   
 to be yours forever. 

 Naomi:  And now Jim.  Jim? 

 Jim:  What the hell are you thinking, Darwin--I would never marry *you*! 

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

 "Shit!" 

 Blair jerked his pen off the page. 

 He ripped the last several sheets out of the wire-bound notebook,   
 crumpled them up, and threw them in the corner.  A moment later he was   
 flattening them out on his desk.  He stared at the blank space at the   
 end, swallowing heavily.  Finally he folded the pages and stuck them in   
 one of the binders in which he kept data for the Sentinel project. 

 He set his textbooks aside, turned off his reading lamp, and slid down   
 between the sheets.  //I wish...//  He knew what he wished.  A certain   
 chest to cuddle against, certain muscular arms to enfold him...  He   
 wanted company tonight.  And he knew it would be soon; it was nineteen   
 days since the last time, and they never went as long as three weeks. 

 //I could just make a pass at him...  Yeah, Sandburg, take the easy   
 way.//  If he knew for sure what the man wanted, he'd just...but Jim was   
 so hard to read. 

 //I can't go to him.  Not until he tells me.  Not until I know he wants   
 me.// 

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

 Jim made the rounds, checking all the windows, turning out lights,   
 locking the door, and checking the freezer one last time.  (You never   
 knew when a tub of ice cream might magically appear in there).  Then he   
 stopped at the foot of the stairs, listening. 

 //He's turning in.// 

 He put one foot on the lowest step. 

 //Sandburg doesn't want...  He didn't...  He's never...//  Jim winced.   
 He only got that incoherent when lust took over.  //He's...not asleep   
 yet.// 

 After an internal struggle, he went to the glass doors and knocked. 

 The heartbeat inside rocketed as Blair sat up.  "Yeah?" 

 Jim opened the door a couple of inches.  Softly:  "Will you come   
 upstairs?" 

 Sandburg shot out of bed, wrenched the door open, and threw himself into   
 Jim's arms.  Jim devoured his mouth.  //My God.  My God, I love you.//   
 Blair moaned.  //Eager tonight.  Been longer than usual.  Love you.  Be   
 mine...//  He broke the clinch, grabbed Blair by the elbow, rushed him   
 to the stairs, and took the steps two at a time. 

 He threw Blair on the bed, who didn't let go but dragged Jim down on top   
 of him.  Blair *oof*ed at the impact and ran his hands down Jim's back   
 to his ass.  "Do me." 

 Jim fumbled with Blair's boxers, managed to get them off.  //Want you   
 more than I've ever wanted anyone...//  He wanted to say it, but he   
 couldn't.  He couldn't talk during sex.  The more intense it was, the   
 less noise he could make; with Blair, he couldn't even groan.  He dipped   
 his tongue into Blair's navel.  //You're beautiful.  Love you.//  Sucked   
 on the pierced nipple.  //Love you, Blair.  Be *my* Blair.  Want you.// 

 "Yes, lick me, touch me, make me scream...ohh, there, like that..." 

 Blair.  A talker, a moaner, a screamer.  //Sweet words, my Blair.  Never   
 stop.  Want you.  Lover.//  He knew Blair's body, now.  That first time   
 together, the day Sandburg had moved in, had been good; kid had skill,   
 knew the territory, had obviously been with a man before.  But three   
 years of intermittent practice, and he knew what the kid liked.  And   
 vice versa. 

 "Mn!  You damn tease.  Put your hand on my cock *now*." 

 //I'll do that.  I'll do more than that.  I want you.  Erase all those   
 others from you.  Never leave me.//  He took the head of Blair's cock in   
 his mouth, swirled his tongue around the tip.  With one hand he played   
 with Blair's nipple.  With the other, he parted Blair's legs to caress   
 his thighs.  //Like this?  Love your eagerness.  Love *you*.// 

 "Oh...yeah.  Do that some more...Oh, I take that back--take me in your   
 mouth--all the way.  Please..." 

 //Not yet, lover.  You're so much sweeter than you know.  I'll show you.   
 Can't say it.  Have to show you.//  He abandoned Blair's cock for a   
 moment (a protesting whimper came south) to lick his fingers.  Then he   
 swallowed his cock again at the same time that he thrust a finger into   
 Blair's anus. 

 Blair cried out, arching his back. 

 Jim ran the tip of his tongue up and down the underside of his lover's   
 cock.  //Taste good.  Lover.// 

 "Ah!  Yes.  I want you so much.  Mm, like that."  He thrusted into Jim's   
 mouth, down onto Jim's fingers, up again... 

 He hooked a finger through Blair's nipple ring. 

 "Ohh...magnificent..." 

 //How can he come up with such long words at a time like--  No, not   
 yet!//  Sensing Blair's impending orgasm, he withdrew entirely to the   
 other side of the bed. 

 "Baby, come back!" 

 He did.  He seized Blair for a long series of kisses, struggling not to   
 pet him too intimately until he was sure Blair wouldn't go over the   
 edge.  Struggling--Blair's hands moved on Jim's cock with no holds   
 barred.  //My lover.  My love.  Want you!// 

 "Touch me, baby.  You know how..." 

 He rolled onto his back, pulling Blair over him.  Caressed his ass, his   
 hair...  Blair's moans went up another notch in volume.  He nipped   
 Blair's lips, his jaw, his ears.  Blair let go of Jim to fumble with the   
 nightstand.  Swiftly he sheathed Jim's cock in latex, rubbed lubricant   
 on it, and tossed the little packages over the side of the bed.  Jim   
 hoisted him into position. 

 The younger man sucked air as he impaled himself.  Jim felt his lips   
 parting in a grimace of ecstasy.  //So hot.//  Jim ran his fingertips up   
 and down Blair's thighs.  //My partner.  My best friend.// 

 "Oh, yeah.  I'm ready." 

 He held onto Blair's hips and thrust gently.  //Lover.  Beloved.// 

 "Harder, baby...ohh...You know you're the only one who does this to   
 me...yeah...  I like that.  Harder."  Sucked air again, the sweat   
 standing out on his face and neck.  "Mmm...baby...that's so good...mmm,   
 beautiful...you're a god..." 

 //Don't have enough hands.//  He pumped Blair's cock, caressed his   
 stomach, pulled him close for a kiss, pushed him away again.  Blair   
 reached down, demanding of Jim's body, another moan bursting from him.   
 //Like to have you touch me.  Like to be in you.  Love you.// 

 The younger man grabbed, caught Jim's hand. 

 //What...?// 

 Blair thrust Jim's thumb into his mouth as far as it would go. 

 Jim thrashed and came.  //Oops.  Shouldn't be me first.// He reclaimed   
 his hand and gave Blair's nipple ring a rough jerk in time with the   
 pumping of his other hand. 

 "YESSS!" 

 He got a heartbreaking glimpse of Blair's beautiful throat as the young   
 man threw his head back.  Then Blair collapsed across him. 

 //Love you.  If just once you would call my name while we do it...// 

 A pause.  Then Blair kissed him lightly, licking his mouth without going   
 deep.  "You're so good, baby." 

 Kiss, lick, nibble.  Jim hoped for more words.  //But there won't be   
 any.  There never are.// 

 Blair left his arms.  Put the lube back in the drawer, the condom   
 wrapper in the trash. 

 //Stay with me.  Be really mine.// 

 He watched the younger man put his boxers back on, slip into the   
 bathroom, then come back with a damp washcloth.  Allowed Blair to clean   
 the semen off his stomach and chest.  They kissed again.  Then Sandburg   
 ghosted down the stairs to his own room.  //Stay with me, lover.// 

 Blair never did.  Jim never asked him to. 

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

  "...marriage is a crock, anyway, Chief, I can tell you--I've been there.   
 If two people really love each other that much, they can just tell each   
 other, and it doesn't matter what they say in front of how many   
 people..." 

 //I don't want to talk about this,// Blair thought. 

 "...anyway, it was strange.  *We* didn't know what to say.  How many men   
 do you know who plan their own wedding when they haven't yet picked out   
 a bride?" 

 Blair, with his back turned, didn't bother to hide his wince.  "Not   
 many.  Look, I have to go.  Meeting in the Anthro building, then some   
 things I have to do around the office..." 

 "Will you be back in the afternoon?" 

 He glanced over his shoulder.  Anecdote finished, Jim seemed to be   
 wholly occupied with shoveling eggs into his face.  "No.  Going with a   
 friend to the circus." 

 Jim glanced back.  "Is she cute?"  Like any guy egging on his buddy   
 about a woman. 

 "Yeah," he replied with a dry mouth.  "See you later."  And fled. 

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

 A Saturday morning was the worst.  It said *weekend* all over it; you   
 knew you ought to be having fun, but you were still so wrecked from the   
 stresses of the Job, you didn't know what to do with yourself.  Unless   
 you had a certain curly-headed anthropologist to dwell on... 

 //Yeah, Jim.  Spend your Saturday morning mooning over a man who won't   
 even spend *two hours* in your bed.  And who's out chasing skirt right   
 now.//  Sandburg could hardly wait to get away from him, on a   
 morning-after.  //Every damn time.  Can you say 'issues?'  I knew you   
 could.// 

 He shook his head and applied himself to cleaning. 

 An hour and a half later, he straightened the pictures on the walls for   
 the third time and contemplated dusting the shelves again--just in case.   
 //Speaking of just in case...//  He checked the freezer.  Nope.  No ice   
 cream. 

 Hm.  What next?  Sandburg had a way of putting his hands on the glass   
 panes of his doors that probably left fingerprints. 

 He fetched the Windex and some paper towels and went into Sandburg's   
 room. 

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

 Professor Blair Sandburg, Anthropology Boy, threw himself down into his   
 chair and put his hands over his face.  He ached in places he didn't   
 usually think about.  //The only thing worse than a departmental   
 subcommittee meeting is a departmental subcommittee meeting on the   
 morning after a night before with James Ellison.  Damn the man.  I don't   
 want to be his fuckbuddy.// 

 The first time he'd had sex, he'd been fifteen, and terribly   
 disappointed and worried when it did not induce a warm afterglow.  He'd   
 eventually learned the term 'post-coital depression', and that for him,   
 at least, it was to be expected but not severe. 

 Until James-damn-him-Ellison came along. 

 More recent experience had taught Blair that after sex (could you call   
 it making love, under these circumstances?) with his so-studly cop   
 partner roommate, he could expect to wallow in the depths of   
 self-pitying triste for--he glanced at his watch--//Well, about four   
 more hours now.  Unless I get laid again before then.// 

 Which he didn't really care to do, actually, but it would be better than   
 wallowing. 

 //I'd be ready to throw in the towel on this whole partnership, if it   
 weren't for the way he submits so...ecstatically.// 

 If he wanted to, he could (without referring to the notes that he'd kept   
 up compulsively, even knowing he could never put this kind of   
 information in his thesis) mark on a calendar each occasion Jim had   
 wanted to get penetrated instead of the other way around.  It was so   
 rare--but so powerful.  Blair had always assigned little importance to   
 topping versus bottoming.  But to Jim it obviously meant something; he   
 relished topping. The few times he had offered himself, he'd relished   
 that, too, but he only wanted it after (or during, if there was time) a   
 life-threatening crisis. 

 Jim's invitation to go upstairs for sex meant, "I'm horny, wanna fool   
 around?" while the invitation to possess Jim's body meant, "We are   
 Sentinel and Guide, partners, and we were meant to be together." 

 //The former's good, the latter's better--but neither's sufficient.//   
 It all seemed to work out, partners, friends, whatever...except for the   
 lonely ache in his chest.  //So you accept what he gives, and turn   
 elsewhere for anything more.// 

 He folded his arms on his desk and pillowed his head there.  //Except   
 when he's letting me do him to affirm our partnership, he's just   
 screwing me because I'm a good fuck.  Hell, maybe I'm not even a *good*   
 fuck, I can't get a sound out of him, maybe I'm just an adequate fuck.// 

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

 He'd been in and out of the room half a dozen times.  He didn't like to   
 snoop--what with his hyper senses, the kid had little enough privacy as   
 it was--but there were those damn black binders lined up on Sandburg's   
 desk, clearly labeled, "Sentinel Project." 

 Finally he gave in, took a couple off the desk, sat down on Sandburg's   
 bed, and flipped through them.  The first he'd grabbed looked like a   
 journal of speculations, some of which he recognized from Sandburg's   
 ramblings.  The second started out with a list of names--every woman Jim   
 had flirted with since the kid had lived in the loft.  With Sandburg's   
 name tucked right in the middle. 

 //What the...?// 

 He checked the label again.  Underneath "Sentinel Project" in small   
 block print, "Sexual Data."  //Jesus fucking Christ, I can't believe   
 he...//  He looked at the next page. 

 His vision reddened.  //Damn.  Damn.  He must have written everything he   
 knows about my sex life in here...// 

 He went quickly through the pages about Carolyn, then lifted a tab to   
 look at the next section. 

 Dates.  And blow-by-blow accounts of...no pun intended...of... 

 //Is *this* why he's been sleeping with me?  I've never been so...  I'll   
 kill him.  I'll go over to his office right now and kill him.// 

 As he stood up, some papers fell out of the notebook.  He picked them   
 up.  Handwritten.  They'd been wadded up, then flattened out and folded   
 sloppily. 

 He unfolded them read: 

 "Naomi:  Good afternoon, everyone, and thank you for coming.  I'm Naomi,   
 speaking for the Sandburgs..." 

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

 Blair straightened up, wiping his face.  //This is sick and pathetic,   
 Sandburg.  Shake it off.  You did actually come here to get some work   
 done.// 

 Feet ran down the corridor.  His gaze snapped to the door just as   
 Ellison barrelled in, panting. 

 "What's wrong?"  He rose.  "Is it a case?  Which one?" 

 Jim came around the desk, seized Blair, and proceeded to make his tongue   
 at home between Blair's tonsils. 

 //Oh, God, not this, I can't...  I can't... I can't deny you anything.//   
 He wrapped his arms around Jim.  When he ran out of air, he gasped, "The   
 door's open--" 

 Jim let go of him, closed the door, and threw the lock.  Blair swept the   
 crap off his desk.  About two seconds later they were both naked, Jim   
 dragging Blair over him--for a moment Blair didn't understand the   
 suggestion, then it burst over him:  //God, he wants me to fuck him.   
 What's gone wrong now?//  But he didn't try to make his partner stop and   
 talk; Jim's hands caressed, and endearments and encouragements came from   
 Blair without his willing it.  He pulled away long enough to grab the   
 necessities out of his backpack, then returned (gloved and lubed) and   
 plunged into Jim in one long smooth motion. 

 Jim's mouth opened as he arched his back, pushing against Blair's   
 pelvis. 

 //God, he's so tight...//  He caressed the sensitive spots just below   
 Jim's armpits, pinched his nipples.  He loved the way Jim sweated   
 buckets when he was excited.  They'd hardly ever done it in daylight   
 before, but Jim was so beautiful like this, helplessly aroused, writhing   
 on Blair's cock.  //I love you,// he thought, but what came out of his   
 mouth was, "...you're so good, you love this, you love getting   
 fucked..." 

 He shuddered, changed the angle of his thrusting.  Jim bit his hand.   
 //Oh my God...// 

 "Oh God, baby, that's good...yeah...yes...YES!" 

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

 //We must be an obscene sight,// Blair thought.  They were still lying   
 on his desk, kissing.  He'd praised Jim--a personal rule of his:  No   
 good turn goes unmentioned--and then lapsed into quiet.  Post-sex   
 sadness dammed up his throat fast.  Always did.  //We're *so* stuck in a   
 rut, here.  Well, at least one of us is happy.//  Finally he put his   
 hand over Jim's mouth to stop the kissing.  "What--um, what brought that   
 on?" 

 Jim drew in a shaky breath.  He got up and reached for his jeans. 

 //Damn.//  He picked up his own clothes.  "Come on, Ellison, *something*   
 must have brought that on.  You never *do* that, man."  He reconsidered   
 what he'd just said, but decided to let the vagueness stand. 

 Dressed now, Jim pulled a crumpled wad of paper out of his pocket,   
 spread it out, and held it in front of Blair's face.  "Is this what you   
 want?" 

 Blair stared, confused.  That was his handwriting...  Then he saw what   
 it said.  The topmost page was the last one he'd written last night,   
 with that horrible blank spot on the bottom where he'd been unable to   
 imagine Jim coming up with tender words, with a testament of love.  //He   
 found it.  He read it.  I can't believe he found that...Oh my God, I   
 left that in the sexual data notebook!// 

 "Is this what you want, Chief?" 

 His face flooded.  He half turned away.  //I could just die.  Life   
 sucks.  I'm gonna die now.// 

 "...because if it is, I--I'm willing to--to try to make it come true." 

 Blair jerked around. 

 Jim's expression was like stone melting, but those blue eyes... 

 The dam burst.  He threw himself at his partner--//Lover?  I can call   
 him 'lover' now?//--and sobbed, once, convulsively. 

 Jim's arms tightened around him.  "I didn't know, Chief.  All this   
 time--I didn't think you loved me that way." 

 "I do.  I love you so much."  He sobbed again.  His eyes started to   
 burn. 

 "I love you, Blair.  I love you.  I love you.  I love you--marry me!" 

 ~Finis~ 


End file.
